


deep waters

by thesorrowoflizards



Series: stand-alone mentalist fics i wrote in a mad haze while rewatching the show [1]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Angst, Chos barely in this... :(, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e18 Russet Potatoes, Gen, Hurt Patrick Jane, Hurt/Comfort, Hypnotism, Jane is kind of manipulative like always and also is bottling up his feelings LIKE ALWAYS, Jane mayhaps have issues, Patrick Jane.........adhd man? more likely than u think, Rigsby is a good dude..., Season/Series 01, and sort of hurt Wayne Rigsby, and there isn't enough of it out there, don't ask me i just work here, even just little tiny glimpses, first mentalist fic......is my characterization good? Who Knows., hes actually my second fave character hes just not really relevant to this plot, hes fine!! hes fine!! if he repeats it often enough its true., idk im just a slut for vulnerable Jane, im making something only mildly angsty MORE angsty, mention of trust issues?, not as angsty as it sounds tho, not really a Divergence(TM) either tho., not really canon compliant??????, sort of POV outsider, this isn't like a 'Jane never trusts Rigsby again' thing its just like, trying to remember when youve got this visceral memory, unrealistic in the sense that I made Jane actually talk about his feelings, why not deal with a more explicitly sad moment? i don't know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27666185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesorrowoflizards/pseuds/thesorrowoflizards
Summary: The aftermath to Rigsby nearly throwing Jane off a building, in three perspectives.
Relationships: Patrick Jane & Teresa Lisbon, Patrick Jane & The Team, Patrick Jane & Wayne Rigsby, Wayne Rigsby & Grace Van Pelt, Wayne Rigsby/Grace Van Pelt
Series: stand-alone mentalist fics i wrote in a mad haze while rewatching the show [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024020
Comments: 7
Kudos: 51





	1. lisbon

**Author's Note:**

> me: should be working on my billion shadowhunters fics  
> also me: what if patrick jane hurt :(

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lisbon had heard a thousand different tones from Jane, but admittedly, real fear was not one she heard often, if at all.

* * *

**i.**

The second she started talking about swims, Lisbon felt a little spark of fear. 

She'd been in dangerous situations before. She was trained for this, and being held at gunpoint was nothing. But she couldn't defend herself against hypnotism--Rigsby was proof of that.

She tried to tell Rigsby to stop, and so did Jane, but all it did was turn the target to him.

Lisbon had heard a thousand different tones from Jane, but admittedly, real _fear_ was not one she heard often, if at all.

Rigsby, roughly pushing him towards the edge of the building with indifferent eyes, his expression unnervingly blank and calm. His iron grip on Jane was unrelenting--he struggled back as hard as he could, but Rigsby was simply stronger than him. He was helpless to get away, to do much more than plea and desperately try to figure out what the trigger word was.

"No, no, no, no, I--I don't want to!" he was shouting, and Rigsby kept pushing him to the edge of the building, his arms roughly pinned behind his back like he was a suspect.

"I don't want to go! Rigsby!" 

"Come on," he said, distant. "Let's go swimming, Jane."

"No, _no!"_

They were so close and Teresa couldn't do anything to stop him, to help either of them--

"It's not water down there, it's _concrete!"_

Lindsay Hendrix's calm, cold voice cut right through his words. "The water's gorgeous," she said, quickly, but still in that soothing tone, "Mr. Jane loves to swim, just like you do, Rigsby."

"Stop, Rigsby, _stop!"_

He sounded desperate. On the edge of terrified. Hands pushing at the building, away from the edge, as Rigsby relentlessly pushed him forward. 

To see Jane, normally so cool and collected in any situation--hell, even when held at gunpoint, he was calm and cheerful. She'd seen him look more together when his family were brought up, on Red John cases. Now he was uselessly scrambling to get away from his own coworker, his _friend,_ and practically begging him to stop.

It made sense, of course, it was a life-or-death situation, high emotions and adrenaline, not to mention it was _Rigsby,_ a team member, which made the whole thing worse on multiple levels. But despite logically knowing all this, Lisbon couldn't help but be struck by seeing Jane's confident, perfect façade cracked for once. 

"--ake him over. He _wants_ to go," she continued, calm and constant, Lisbon barely hearing her. "Push him over, Risgby."

"No, no, Rigsby," Jane said wildly as he was pressed right up against the wall, the edge, ready to be tipped over, and he could see the street far below. "I--" he seemed to finally have an idea, and he practically shouted, " _Shark!_ Shark! There! See it? It's a great white!"

Rigsby seemed to falter, looking down like he was looking for a fin swimming between the skyscrapers. 

"Sharks? Where?" he said. 

"There are no sharks, Rigsby," Lindsay called, her calm voice splintering a little with frustration, "The water's fine."

"She's lying," Jane said, confidence returning as Rigsby stopped.

"Just take him in!" Lindsay screamed. _"Throw him in!"_

"She wants you to get eaten! Who is this woman?" 

"Throw him over! _Throw him over!_ Don't..." she reached out to touch his shoulder.

There was an overlap of yelling--Jane realizing the trigger, Lindsay screaming for Rigsby to throw Jane over, and with the right touch, Rigsby snapping out of it, face clearing as he yelled in panic and knocked her gun away.

It was over in one burst of movement--Rigsby took her down, and Lisbon took the chance to disarm Tiegler. 

She heard Jane talking to Rigsby--back to being seemingly unaffected, completely unbothered by nearly being killed, telling him he'd been in a trance state. Rigsby didn't believe him. Had absolutely no idea what had just happened. 

She cuffed Tiegler, and glanced back over at Jane. He was breathing a little deeply, but he seemed fine. For now, at least, he seemed fine--relieved, if anything.

She and Rigsby had their hands a little full, so she asked Jane to untie the other hostage and went to herd him off.

She couldn't help but notice his hands were shaking. 

* * *


	2. jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane knew, logically, that Rigsby was not himself when he had attempted to literally throw him off a building. This does not mean his brain is quite getting the message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stream of thought. me? projecting my adhd ass onto jane? couldn't be

* * *

**ii.**

To anyone watching, Jane was, as usual, dozing on his brown couch, looking comfortable and pleased as ever. Eyes closed, relaxed, and not a trace of distress or deep thought on his face. 

Jane was in near death situations all the time. This did not bother him. It absolutely did not in _any way_ bother him. 

Sure, it was a little different when it was his teammate about to shove him off a building, but Rigsby wasn't responsible. Jane knew that. He knew more than anyone how hypnotism works, and he didn't blame Rigsby at all. He hadn't done anything wrong, and he couldn't have possibly fought back. _Anyone_ could have fallen victim. Anyone not familiar with hypnosis. Anyone without their guard up.

Okay, well, maybe not _anyone_ , but that wasn't the _point_ , the point was, Rigsby didn't want to shove him off a building, nor would Rigsby have ever done so without circumstances he couldn't control. Sure, Rigsby was absolutely strong enough to, if given enough time and motivation, and he almost had. But that didn't mean anything, because he _wouldn't._ Jane knew that. Logically. 

Jane trusted him. At least, as much as he trusted anyone. Maybe not as much as Lisbon. _Maybe_. But he did trust Rigsby. Which was something he didn't like to think about--he was not one to trust easily, not after everything, and nor did he want anyone to get too close. People who got too close tended to wind up too dead for his liking. 

Maybe that's why this was bothering him so much? It _was_ bothering him. He didn't want to admit it because it was wrong and not Rigsby's fault and he _shouldn't_ be bothered, but he _was_ bothered, and he was too good a liar to lie to himself. 

But he did trust Rigsby. Not _had_ \--he did. Important distinction. He did trust Rigsby, and the fact that he now had, tucked away in his perfect memory, a very vivid and detailed memory of Rigsby's rough and unrelenting grip as he was pushed towards the edge of a very tall building? Meant nothing. Nope. Didn't matter he had somehow been completely blindsided at the possibility of anyone on the team ever raising as hand to him--well, that was dramatic, wasn't in it, it was hardly like Rigsby had slapped him. But still. Someone he didn't think would ever force his arms behind his back and roughly shove him (well, okay, Lisbon might once he got his hands around Red John's throat, but that was different, he will have _earned_ that--) had. well. done that.

And that was fine. Again, not Rigsby's fault. Jane knew that. Rigsby wouldn't hurt a fly. Unless the fly was evil. Or hurting Van Pelt. Or hurting anyone, really. But he was a _protector._ And it wasn't his fault he got used. He wouldn't do something like this of his own free will, ergo, Jane has nothing to be ~~frig--~~ _wary_ of. Rigsby was a good man, a protector, he was kind and he cared about people and he didn't go about _hurting_ innocent people.

If anything, Jane should be worried for _him,_ forced to do these things and now facing the loss his memories, his control--it was violating, and it mattered far more than some petty, silly feelings over something that barely even bruised. Rigsby was the victim here, if anything, forced to do things he would never do.

Like the suspect--Rigsby violently slamming his head into the table completely calmly, acting like nothing was wrong--well, that had been very unnerving. And it had also immediately given away that he wasn't himself. Why was this different? Rigsby wouldn't do that to a suspect, or any innocent person; much less someone on his team. Sure, he might have a brutal streak, might be angry enough to _want_ to hit a suspect, but he would never normally act on that. And anyway, that was a suspect, someone who might be a murderer, not... 

~~(Not that Jane was innocent, he would never think that, but Rigsby had no reason to hurt him, Rigsby _wouldn't,_ they were _friends.)_~~

~~~~It wasn't like Rigsby wanted to hit him on a daily basis. Or throw him off a building. He had thought it was harmless water.

God. He was just going in circles now. Pathetic. 

Well, it's not like he was going to do anything stupid now, like flinch or show any signs of discomfort. Jane could put on a smile with the best of them--he'd been doing it for years now, and no one had noticed yet. This would be fine, and he'd get over it in his own time. 

He had nothing to worry about. This was just a silly chemical reaction, wasn't it, just the simple lizard brain reaction to nearly dying. Jane could deal with that. He was a _master_ of bending emotions to his will. So he would deal with it, and everything would be normal. That was fine.

Anyway, there were more important things to think about than some irrational prickle of--being upset. Yes. There was more important things. In fact, there were more important _Rigsby_ things, namely, him kissing Van Pelt.

And if he said he didn't remember... well, all the better. It was good teasing material, harmless fun, and, well. He would eventually, Jane was more than sure. Despite what he said (teasing, normal teasing, just banter, it's not like he'd be angry) if Rigsby had remembered kissing her he'd be freaking out more about now. 

(Jane did wonder, though, if Rigsby would remember how he'd practically squirmed under him, trying to get away, desperately telling him _no, no, stop_ over and over, remember pinning his hands ruthlessly, remember forcing him towards the "sea"...)

He put that thought away. No need to think about it. He'd given it too much time already, anyway. Into the certified Jane Emotion Bottles™ it goes. 

He shifted slightly on the couch cushions, adjusting his position. Time to think of something else, anything else. He filed through his mental distractions folder: Magic tricks, silly schemes, fun trivia to annoy people with, Red John revenge fantasies, designs for the perfect paperclip structure...

...Yeah. Paperclips. Why not? There were a lot of those on hand. Maybe he could build a whole structure on the table before Lisbon got back.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jane on the outside: just vibin :)  
> jane on the inside: could my friends kill me if they wanted to


	3. rigsby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rigsby knew Jane's trust was hard won, despite his easygoing manner. He wasn't sure what had fractured it when he was hypnotized, but it certainly couldn't have been good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> realized i fucked with the timeline a little bit given that lisbon actually mentions the charges were dropped in front of him at the end of the episode, and this would probably be after that as rigsby is realizing something's wrong, but like, i've already written it and it's FINE

* * *

**iii.**

Rigsby knew something was up. 

Apparently while being hypnotized he'd... done some things. 

He wasn't stupid, he was pretty sure he'd done _something_ with Van Pelt going from the teasing and her reaction. He hoped it wasn't _too_ embarrassing, but with his luck, he'd proposed to her.

Not that he had a ring.

If he proposed to Grace, he'd have a ring. A really pretty ring. One that suited her. Expensive, because she deserved it, but _classy_. Something nice.

_...Not that he would propose to Van Pelt._

Not now, anyway, given that they weren't even dating. Obviously. 

But no, there was something else.

Jane was acting... weird.

Just a little. It was barely noticeable, in fact, and Rigsby was surprised he'd noticed it at all. 

But he wouldn't turn his back to Rigsby. Avoided it, in fact. Avoided Rigsby in general. 

It wasn't obvious--Jane was ever-so-good at gracefully bowing out, or at dazzling you with a thousand distractions and clever words so that you never even noticed what he was really doing. The magician, always having people looking at the wrong hand. 

But Rigsby wasn't dumb. And sue him, he'd been watching a little more closely than he normally might.

After all, the first thing he remembered after two whole missing days (beyond vague fragments--interrogating a suspect calmly, talking with Lisbon, Grace being beautiful as always--just little flashes he couldn't really connect) was Jane, pinned between him and a wall, grasping at his shoulder a little more roughly than he'd be used to from the normally graceful consultant. He was normally all calm and deliberate motions, so that was strange. It stood out to him. And then, of course, the gun pointed at their faces, which was really the star of that particular memory. 

So he'd been watching Jane. He had no idea what had happened--presumably Hendrix, who'd had him whammied, was using him to keep Jane in place or something. But the second he'd snapped out of it (Jane yelling _gun! gun!)_ and knocked her gun away, he'd scrambled from Rigsby's grip as fast as he could, backing away as he'd dealt with Hendrix. 

He'd seen even a little shaken, and that was enough to worry Rigsby. Had he gotten violent? Had something else happened? 

Not having his memories, knowing he'd spent two days doing god knows what was... unnerving. It set Rigsby off-balance. He didn't like the idea he might have hurt someone and he had no idea.

And Jane... well, despite how easygoing and cheerful he seemed, Rigsby knew his trust was hard earned. And he didn't even realize he'd really had it until he saw how it was now... fractured. 

Jane didn't go with him when he was driving. He didn't bug him for tea or conversation, although he wouldn't turn it down. Just little things, but Rigsby was starting to wonder if he'd done something unforgivable. 

* * *

He approached her in the break room, hestiant. 

"Hey, uh..." _Grace,_ he didn't say, "Van Pelt?" 

She blinked, looking up at him. "Yes?"

He looked around--no one else was in earshot. Just them. 

"Can I... ask you something? About when I was... you know. Hypnotized?

There's a slight panic on her face now. "Nothing happened," she said, voice a little higher than usual. "Nothing important. Mostly normal case stuff."

"I can't really remember," he said, "But--"

"They were just teasing!" she blurted out. "Nothing happened between us!"

He paused. "I... did something happen between us?"

"No!" she said. Then. "Wait, weren't you asking about that?"

"No," he said, "I wanted to know if something happened between me and Jane."

" _You thought you kissed Jane?"_

"What? No! ...Wait, did we--?"

"No!"

"Then why would you bring that up?!"

"Well, you said 'something happened'--"

"Not like a good something!" 

"Kissing Jane would be a 'good' something?" 

"N--that's not what I meant! I meant something bad! Like, did I _do_ something bad?" 

She looked confused more than anything now. "I don't think so?"

"Did I..." he shifted nervously. "Did I get violent or something?"

Her expression cleared a bit. "You're probably remembering the interrogation," she said.

Oh no.

"The interrogation?" 

"Yeah," Van Pelt said, "You kinda... slammed the guy's head into the table? Pretty hard, too. But we pulled you out of there right away."

He sat down hard in the chair next to her. "...Oh."

She gave him a stern look--with soft eyes. Very pretty eyes. "It wasn't your fault, Rigsby," she said. "You were hypnotized, you weren't yourself. The charges were dropped and everything." 

But Rigsby remembered what Jane had said about hypnotism. Not being able to hypnotize someone into doing something they wouldn't do before... 

(Flashes, again: _So Rigsby's got a brutal streak, if you didn't know, now you--)_

He shook his head.

"...I'm not remembering the interrogation," he said. "I don't remember doing that. I remember questioning him, but..."

"Then why...?"

Rigsby bit his lip, unsure if he should continue. But... this was _Grace._

"Jane's been acting _weird_ ," Rigsby confessed.

"Has he?" 

"I don't know, maybe I'm imagining it. But I swear he's avoiding me." 

"And you're worried you hurt him."

"Maybe?" he said. "I mean, I don't remember anything, whose to say I didn't do something?" 

She sighed. "I don't know. But even if you did, Jane wouldn't want you to blame yourself if you did something under hypnotism. You should talk to him."

"Because Jane's known for being the king of communication." 

" _Talk._ to. him." 

Grace was so smart. 

He _really_ was going to have figure out if he'd kissed her or not. (He had vague flashes of his arms around her waist, the scent of her perfume-- _hm._ To be examined later.)

* * *

Rigsby spent two days trying to subtly cajole Jane into talking. Or getting him alone and having him not bulldoze right over whatever Rigsby was saying, or more accurately, dance around the topic so quickly Rigsby didn't even realize what was happening until he was left spinning in his wake, Jane flitted off to somewhere else. 

He was getting particularly frustrated with this when sitting near Jane's couch, now devoid of its occupant, realizing he'd been duped again, when Cho sighed exasperatedly. And loudly.

"What?" Rigsby said defensively.

"If you're want to talk to Jane about whatever's bugging him, you can't play his game," Cho said, as unruffled and near-monotone as ever. "Try and be subtle, he'll run circles around you."

"You're saying be blunt," Rigsby said.

"Yes," Cho said, bluntly. "And you're both making the office weird. Sort it out." 

That was fair.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jane in his chapter: i am subtle. i am sneaky. i am a master of deception  
> jane, master of deception, but around a group of he people he trusts (in....most contexts, let's not get into the whole Mess): they will never know anythings up  
> the whole team, trained detectives: hm. so what's up with jane
> 
> i realize i'm fudging canon a little because let's be real, if jane really wanted to hide his feelings from the team he could. he's too good of a liar and manipulator not to be able to. but my logic here is: a) they're like, trained detectives who know body language/lying and shit, even if not to the extent jane does, b) they knew him personally, c) he knows _them_ and like, for the most part, trusts them (while the red john thing is a whole hot mess overall he does trust them and like, while he's for sure not totally unguarded his guard is more down than it might be for others if that makes sense) and d) bc i SAID SO blease let the angst happen im too dumb to figure out how to make the plot go in any more subtle ways


	4. rigsby & jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation!

* * *

**vi.**

"What happened when I was hypnotized?" Rigsby asked, half blurting and half demanding. 

Jane blinked slowly at him, like a lazy cat. "You mean with Hendrix?" he asked, deceptively mild. "You don't remember yet?"

Rigsby frowned. "It hasn't been that long, and I still get flashes, but nothing that explains why you're being.... _weird_."

Jane chuckled, as unaffected as ever. "Weird?" he asked, spreading his hands as if to say _search me,_ "I don't know what you're talking about. I thought this was about..." he glanced meaningfully over at Van Pelt. 

Big guns, then.

Rigsby valiantly ignored this very shiny distraction. "No, this is about you avoiding me. And being weird." 

"I'm not being weird," Jane said.

"Yes, you are!" Rigsby said, raising his voice. 

Jane did not flinch or move back, or move at all. In fact, he went quite still. Only for a split second--then he deliberately relaxed, leaning back like he had not a care in the world. Rigsby wouldn't have spotted it if he wasn't staring directly at him.

"... _See_!" Rigsby couldn't help but say, a little childishly. 

Jane let out a long breath, seemingly dropping all--well, not all, never all, but _this--_ pretense. "It's fine, Rigsby," he said, "I'll get over it."

"Did I _do_ something?"

"Do you not know? Really surprised you haven't asked Lisbon."

"Why would I--oh my god, I'm so dumb."

Lisbon was there on the roof. If that was where anything had happened, which seemed more likely--well, he could have done something somewhere else, but _why?_ Well, why did he slam a suspect's head against a table? Really, there was no guarantee Lisbon would have known, although this _did_ imply that whatever it was that happened Lisbon should know about it, hence it was probably the roof, when he was--what, pinning Jane for her? Had he... slapped him? Done something? God, Rigsby hoped not.

Seeing he was now lost in thought, Jane beamed at him, all sparkling smiles again. "Well, you go ask her, I'll just go make myself a cup of t--" 

"Wait--" Rigsby's hand caught his shoulder as he went to extract himself from the conversation again, and Jane actually jerked away from him. 

Rigsby withdrew his hand immediately, but Jane didn't seem bothered at all. In fact, he was fully willing to use the stricken look on Rigsby's face to escape, but Rigsby's (very... _small_ sounding) call of _"Wait... please,"_ stopped him.

"Did I... _hurt_ you?" Rigsby finally asked.

Jane looked surprised. _Actually_ surprised. "No," he said. 

"Then what happened?"

Jane exhaled, sitting back down on the couch. "It's really not a big deal," he said.

"Clearly it's something."

"It's not a big deal," Jane said again. "And you were hypnotized, so not your fault."

"That's what Grace said..." Rigsby muttered. 

"Listen to Grace," Jane said. "She's right. Smart woman."

"She is very smart, isn't she?" Rigsby said, before shaking himself out of the dreamy tone. "Hey! No distracting me!" 

Jane shrugged with an unrepentant little smile, like, _Had to try, didn't I?_

He didn't try as hard as he could have. 

"So?" Rigsby said. 

Jane pursed his lips. "You... tried to throw me off the roof," he said.

"I... _what?"_

"More like pushed, really," Jane said helpfully. 

"That's not better!"

"You thought it was the ocean," Jane said. "She wanted you to 'take me for a swim'." 

"That sounds like a mob hit. How did I not notice that sounds like a mob hit?"

"Hypnotized people don't exactly catch onto subtleties. It's not your fault."

"I nearly _threw you off a building."_

"No, Lindsay Hendrix nearly threw me off a building. She just... used you to do it." He tilted his head as he said, as cavalier as ever.

"Okay, say I'm 100 percent not to blame--" "--you're not--" "--why are you upset?"

Jane stared at him, visibly calculating how to get around this question.

"Jane."

If this had been a movie, he may have said _Patrick._ As it were, calling him Patrick would feel weird.

 _Jane_ was somehow more intimate. It was what they all called him, after all. His ~~friends~~ team. 

"Not your fault," he said again. He leaned back. "Normal reaction. I'll get over it. Besides, I'm not special, you nearly threw Dr. Daniel off, too." 

"That doesn't make me feel better."

"It wouldn't, would it," Jane agreed. "You didn't hurt anyone. Or me. Obviously, I'm fine," he pats his vest as if to say _see? in one piece,_ "didn't go over the edge. No swimming with sharks." 

"Sharks?"

"That's what I said to distract you. That there were sharks. You were still suggestible, you wouldn't accept that the street wasn't an ocean, so I played into it. Sharks. It's like..." he tapped his chin with a finger, "It's like a game of improv. _Yes, and,_ right?"

Sharks. 

(Jane's voice, panicked, yelling _Shark! Shark! There, see it?)_

Hm. 

"She tried to override that--no _yes, and,_ naughty, naughty. But in the process gave up what the trigger was, so I used that to snap you out of it. And you remember the rest."

(Before that, though-- _easily pinning struggling hands, why wouldn't he calm down, it was just a swim, he loved swimming)_

And Rigsby wanted _so_ bad to tease him for being a theater kid, but he was a little busy trying to sort out what he was remembering. The fragments of it, anyway.

"So I didn't... hit you, or anything?" he asked distantly. 

"You didn't slam my head into a table if that's what you're worried about," Jane said lightly. "Just a little manhandling. Nothing I can't handle." 

_(Keeping his hands behind his back, shoving him forward even as he pushes back, scrambles away, he holds his own pretty well but it's just a swim, he's being ridiculous, Rigsby will get him any second and once he's in the water he'll realize how silly this is--)_

"You said that no one could be hypnotized into doing something they weren't... morally okay with." 

_(Jane's voice, more scared than he's ever heard it, saying No, no--)_

"True," Jane said. 

"So I was morally okay with throwing you off a building?"

"You were morally okay with throwing me into the ocean," Jane corrected, then paused, seemingly replaying that sentence in his head. "In a nice way," he said. "Like, on the beach. Like dunking a friend in the pool. Not like cement shoes and sleeping with the fishes."

"So we're back to mob hits, great."

"I just said you _wouldn't_ take me out mob-style, keep up."

"That doesn't make sense, anyway. I thought the point was it couldn't be pushed too far, that only a killer could be hypnotized to kill." 

Jane looked at him for a long moment.

"I'm not dead," he said simply. 

Rigsby frowned. "You could have been."

"I'm not."

"Could've been."

"Not."

"Coul--"

"Not, not, not," Jane practically sing-songed, like someone's annoying kid brother, "And _maybe_ I could have been, but you didn't manage it and you had quite a bit of time for a trained police officer. Why not just haul me over your shoulder, hm? You're strong enough to. But you didn't. I'd say, somewhere deep down, _you--"_ he pointed, nearly bopping his nose, "--resisted." 

Rigsby was starting to feel a little better about this whole thing, but--wait, the whole point was that _Jane_ was upset. He'd just managed to turn it back around to Rigsby's guilt over the situation. _Damn_ it. 

"Okay," he said slowly. "Not my fault."

Jane raised his eyebrows at Rigsby giving in so quickly.

"So are you okay?"

Jane waved dismissively. "Oh, we're fine," he said. "I don't blame you all."

And he really didn't seem to.

"Okay," Rigsby said again, "I believe you. But that's not what I asked. Are _you_ okay?"

He was starting to get an idea of what was wrong. Even if he felt a little slow on the uptake. 

"Fine," Jane said, almost strained. "Why would I not be?"

As soon as the words leave his lips he visibly regrets it. Rigsby takes the chance he's given. 

"Well, your friend attacked you--" (and you know what's really endearing? No matter how he hides it, he _still_ looks pleased when any of them refer to him as a friend) "--and tried to throw you off a building. Whether said friend was hypnotized or not, that wouldn't feel great. It'd be perfectly natural to be a little upset."

"I'm fine," Jane said again.

Rigsby stared him down.

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?" Jane said.

"Nope."

"Ever? Until I talk about it?"

"Nope."

"Great." 

"Pretty sure Cho will lock us in if we don't work this out, anyway."

Jane glanced over through the glass door. Cho looked over at them with a flat look that very much said _get your shit together_.

Yeah, Cho would do that.

Jane sighed. "I really don't blame you," he said, for the umpteenth time. "It was just... unnerving, that's all. I'm not hurt."

Because, of course, Jane knew Rigsby wouldn't hurt him, had accounted for that, never planned for that scenario, because he _wouldn't,_ so when he did, it was like a betrayal, or like Jane had been _wrong_ and _stupid,_ which was bullshit, but he couldn't say all that because Rigsby was still looking at him with that expectant face and Jane wasn't about to say _even though it's stupid and tiny I didn't think I'd ever have to deal with bruises from any of you._

Couldn't have him feeling any more guilty than he already did.

"That's all," he said again. "Logically, I know exactly what happened and why. There is still the reaction I can't help. Someone I trust--" and to his credit, he barely stumbled over the world, "--pushed me around a bit, while under hypnosis. I'll get over it. Really, Rigsby, that's all. I haven't made a big deal of it because it's not a big deal."

And that, that was true. Mountains from molehills. Jane was overreacting on an emotional level, and Rigsby was so worried over hurting someone (which was really quite sweet) he was overreacting, too. If they'd just let it blow over it wouldn't have had to have been such a big deal. He'd get over it, with time--just spending time around Rigsby would help. Which, admittedly, he'd been avoiding, but it had only been a little while ago. He'd let things go back to normal, work cases, participate in office banter, tease him and Van Pelt over their burgeoning romance, and just being around Rigsby, who was, for the most part, a big teddy bear, would help. 

Rigsby studied his expression for a moment and Jane, who was remarkably good at concealing his emotions, generally speaking, felt unusually... seen. Hm. 

"Alright," he said finally. "If you're sure."

"If you'd accepted this answer ages ago," Jane pointed out cheekily, "You'd have saved us some trouble."

Rigsby did not take the opportunity for banter. "For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I'm sorry."

Jane smiled, and it did reach his eyes as much as any of his smiles ever did. "You've got nothing to be sorry for." 

He almost made a joke about kissing Van Pelt, but neither of them seemed particularly sorry for that, either. 

(He'd tell Rigsby that later, a while later, and he'd laugh and swat his shoulder and Jane would just laugh with him, no flinching or anything of the kind.) 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? forcing jane to talk about his feelings despite him literally rebelling against me, the writer, constantly? yes.

**Author's Note:**

> ive been rewatching the mentalist lately and it's got me wanting to write all the fic i want to see in the world for it. like, queer headcanons? yes babey. angst and as i've seen it called "jane pain" (lmao)? Y E S B A B E Y  
> we'll see if i actually write a bunch of these--i've had several ideas, but for some reason this is the first one i actually sat down to type  
> i guess i was just watching this episode and i was like ".............hm" and here i am  
> im not very happy with this fic honestly, but its 5 am and i've been trying to finish it for like 3 hours now and if i don't say fuck it and post it i literally never will, i'll look at it in the morning and delete it out of shame, so here's the only chance to see it out in the world lmao
> 
> but damn i just love taking something that's only kinda angsty and going hey what if i made this like much worse? what if this hurt you.


End file.
